


For Love of the Stars

by Milliethekitty27



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27398140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milliethekitty27/pseuds/Milliethekitty27
Summary: America has always loved the stars.
Kudos: 9





	For Love of the Stars

America has always loved the sky.   
When he was little, traveling the land and seeing the different people in their different camps who called him different names, he followed the stars and the sun. The moon always lit his path and he would talk to it, sometimes. He told it about the people he’d met, the places he’d been, the friends he’d made and the things he’d seen.

When the Europeans arrived, they taught him different things. He learned more about sea travel but he also learned about different stars, about the things Britain had seen, or France. When he went west, he found some stories he remembered and others he didn’t. He relished all of them, sitting up late and listening to the untouched wilds while the stars glittered overhead, a fire at his back with the endless territory around him, but the world above just like it always was.

Wherever he went, no matter how different, the stars were still there. Even when men screamed on the battlefield and he thought he’d never breath properly again, the sun came up and the smog always cleared. He could still find the North Star or the Little Dipper, he could still find Orion’s Belt like Britain had taught him, but he could find the Bear’s Den, the Spider, and the Great Elk like he’d been taught so long ago.

One of his strongest memories of Russia, then the Soviet Union, was during the meetings in the last few years of World War II. He was painfully thin, fairly injured, and there was a manic look in his eyes.

America could only stay still for a short time before he got restless - the battlefield itched at him, like it did all the countries involved, and he was still himself too - so he had left the meeting house in New Hampshire to look up at the sky. He had found Russia sitting on a bench outside, smoking a cigarette. America had hesitated, then joined him. 

“Nice night, huh?” Russia had grunted, but offered him a lighter. America had accepted. They’d sat for a bit of time before America had grown tired of the silence. 

“When I was younger-” he’d said, pointing up at the stars. “I called the milky way the spirit road. Well, actually, I called it a lot of things, but I think that’s my favorite of the names. I followed the Old Woman’s Grandchild-” he’d pointed at the north star. “-to see Ma-Canada every year. The Aurora Borealis scared both of us every time we saw it. First time I did I was told it was the ghost of fallen enemies, trying to rise from the dead and kill us all. I didn’t go back up for _ages_ during the lights, just to be safe.” He had prattled on for a bit and Russia said nothing for some time.

“You talk like you’re my age.” he’d grumbled finally. 

“Maybe I am.” America had grinned at him. “It’s not like I wasn’t here before you whites showed up. I just wasn’t very old.” Russia’d grunted again. After a few moments, America had nudged him with his foot. Russia had raised an eyebrow. 

_"Kaikye?"_

“I’m gonna assume that means _what."_ America had shifted in his coat a little. “You have constellations too, right?”

“Of course I do. It’s not like the stars disappear when they get to me.”

“Not like that. I mean, like… story names. Stuff like that. From before we had to learn the Greek ones like Andromeda and stuff.” Russia was quiet for a bit and America had thought that his ally was about to get up and leave. But, after a moment, he’d crushed his cigarette against the bench seat and pointed up at Orion’s Belt. 

“That’s three deer.” He’d pointed at a neighboring star. “A hunter shot that, to kill them.”

When Britain had came out, he found the pair of them discussing constellations. America had tried to rope him in, but when Britain had brought up the Greek constellations he’d gotten booed.

“Tell us about the _Celtic_ ones, from _before_ you were… whatever you are now.”

“Must you always be so childish?” Britain had muttered.

“Yeah, now stop being French and tell us about the stars.” Britain had heaved a bit of a sigh. He’d accepted the light from Russia, then took a deep breath.

The next morning, when they came down for breakfast, all three nations were beat - they’d stayed up almost all night before realizing how late it was, talking about stars and cultures long silenced.

During the space race, ten years almost to the day later, America practically breathed NASA. He read every paper he could get his hands on, he spent hours just peering through their high-tech telescopes. He listened to every report like an eager puppy. Finally, the things he’d looked at for so long were almost in reach. 

He landed on the moon first and sent Russia a rather smug little note, nothing more than a _ha ha look what I did,_ but still. He wondered if Russia had been just as excited about getting to the places they’d always looked at, the places they’d been told stories about by people long gone. Now they could study them, see them up close. Maybe one day they’d even be able to see them from a live space station, lounging in seats eating apple pie. That sounded _great._

Years later, when the Cold War was over, he found himself sitting with Canada during a meeting in Norway. The Northern Lights were dancing overhead and they’d taken a moment to go outside and look.

“Do you still think they’re going to turn into warriors to kill you?” Russia rumbled as he came out. He was different than he had been, but America privately thought he was still an asshole. 

“You _told_ him about that?” Canada rolled his eyes.

“During the War, yeah.” America shrugged, grinning a little. “Nah, not anymore. I’ve gone past them, I know what’s up there.”

“Do we?” Russia leaned against the railing like the two North Americans were doing. “Maybe the ghosts are just a little further.”

“Don’t even _joke_ about that.” Canada shuddered. “I still have nightmares when I’m far north.” America laughed. “You do too!” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t!” 

Yes, the stars were ever presence. They were guiding, they were storytellers, they were connections to past and to present people. They were the future, America knew it. He wanted to see more of them, find new places out there were maybe new people, new species, could talk about their constellations and their stories.

Plus, they let him be smug when talking with Russia because _I landed on the moon first, beotch, and I’ll see everything else first too._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I know very little about Native constellations, but I was trying to project that America learned the constellations from every tribe in his territory so those names sometimes mix him up.   
> It’s Nanowrimo and break time! I’m on a bit of a star-kick so I might end up doing more star-stuff later on, but this was just a little thought burst to get me back into a writing groove.   
> You can find me on Tumblr at Milliethekitty27-writing


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